Once, long ago, the Buddha was born as a little parrot. One day a storm
fell upon his forest home. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a dead
tree, struck by lightning, burst into flames. Sparks leapt on the wind
and soon the forest was ablaze. Terrified animals ran wildly in every direction,
seeking safety from the flames and smoke.

"Fire! Fire!" cried the little parrot. "To the river!" Flapping his
wings, he flung himself out into the fury of the storm and, rising higher,
flew towards the safety of the river. But as he flew he could see that
many animals were trapped, surrounded by the flames below, with no chance
of escape.

Suddenly a desperate idea, a way to save them, came to him.

He darted to the river, dipped himself in the water, and flew back over
the now raging fire.

The heat rising up from the burning forest was like the heat of an oven.
The thick smoke made breathing almost unbearable. A wall of flames shot
up on one side, and then the other. Crackling flames leapt before him.
Twisting and turning through the mad maze of fire, the little parrot flew
bravely on. At last, when he was over the center of the forest, he shook
his wings and released the few drops of water which still clung to his
feathers. The tiny drops tumbled down like jewels into the heart of the
blaze and vanished with a hissssssssss.

Then the little parrot once more flew back through the flames and smoke
to the river, dipped himself in the cool water, and flew back again over
the burning forest. Back and forth he flew, time and time again, from the
river to the forest, from the burning forest to the river. His feathers
were charred. His feet were scorched. His lungs ached. His eyes, stung
by smoke, turned red as coals. His mind spun dizzily as the spinning sparks.
But still the little parrot flew on.

At this time, some of the devas -- gods of a happy realm -- were floating
overhead in their cloud palaces of ivory and gold. They happened to look
down. And they saw the little parrot flying among the flames. They pointed
at him with perfect hands. Between mouthfuls of honeyed foods they exclaimed,
"Look at that foolish bird! He's trying to put out a raging forest fire
with a few sprinkles of water! How absurd!" And they laughed.

But one of those gods, strangely moved, changed himself into a golden
eagle and flew down, down towards the little parrot's fiery path.

The little parrot was just nearing the flames again when the great eagle
with eyes like molten gold appeared at his side. "Go back, little bird!"
said the eagle in a solemn and majestic voice. "Your task is hopeless!
A few drops of water can't put out a forest fire! Cease now and save yourself
-- before it is too late."

But the little parrot only continued to fly on through the smoke and
flames. He could hear the great eagle flying above him as the heat grew
fiercer, calling out, "Stop, foolish little parrot! Save yourself! Save
yourself!"

And the god, who was that great eagle, seeing the little parrot flying
through the flames, thought suddenly of his own privileged kind. He could
see them high up above. There they were, the carefree gods, laughing and
talking, while many animals cried out in pain and fear from the flames
below. And he grew ashamed. Then one single desire was kindled in his heart.
God though he was, he just wanted to be like that brave little parrot,
and to help.

"I will help!" he exclaimed and, flushed with these new feelings, he
began to weep. Stream after stream of sparkling tears poured from his eyes.
Wave upon wave, they washed down like cooling rain upon the fire, upon
the forest, upon the animals and upon the little parrot himself.

The flames died down and the smoke began to clear. The little parrot,
washed and bright, rocketed about the sky laughing for joy. "Now that's
more like it!" he exclaimed.

The eagle's tears dripped from burned branches. Smoke rose up from the
scorched earth. Miraculously, where those tears glistened, new life pushed
forth -- fresh shoots, stems, and leaves. Green grass pushed up from among
the still glowing cinders.

Where the teardrops sparkled on the parrot's wings, new feathers now
grew. Red feathers, green feathers, yellow feathers -- such bright colors!
Such a handsome bird!

All the animals looked at one another in amazement. They were whole
and well. Not one had been harmed. Up above in the clear blue sky they
could see their brave friend, the little parrot, looping and soaring in
delight. When all hope was gone, somehow he had saved them. "Hurray!" they
cried. "Hurray for the brave little parrot and for the miraculous rain!"